


Thunderstruck

by GoodGollyMissYollie (Yollie183)



Series: Ride The Lightning [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Blood, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Music, Sex, Slurs, Tattoos, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollie183/pseuds/GoodGollyMissYollie
Summary: Extras, bonus scenes and new stuff from theGoddamn Electricworld.





	1. Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Thunderstruck by AC/DC.
> 
> Don't know how much sense this will make without reading the rest of the series first. So please read that. 
> 
> Since this is all extras, some chapters won't have Steve, some won't have Bucky, and none of them will be in any sort of chronological order, since I'm writing as inspiration hits.
> 
> The first chapter is the backstory between Bucky and Brock, told in reverse chronological order. So enjoy!
> 
> Ps. I haven't written anything in about a year, so even though this is tiny, it feels monumental. Life can be pretty strange, and mine has had some really amazing moments, and some really shitty ones. But I'm here again, writing again, so thank you for being here and reading this.

_Scream at me again if you like_

_Throw your hate at me with all your might_

_Hit me cause I'm strange, hit me_

_Tell me I'm a pussy and you're harder than me_

_What's with you, boy? Think hard_

_A tattooed body to hide who you are_

_Scared to be honest_

_Be yourself, a cowardly man!_

_I don't run around trying to be what's not within me_

_Look into my eyes, I am free_

_You're just a wannabe_

_Scream at me again if you like_

_Throw your hate at me with all your might_

_Hit me cause I'm strange, hit me_

_Tell me I'm a pussy and you're harder than me_

_What's with you, boy? Think hard_

_A tattooed body to hide who you are_

_Scared to be honest_

_Be yourself, a cowardly man!_

_To come out_

_\- Clown, Korn_

~

 

Brock gave a drawn-out sigh and moved a few inches away from Bucky on the bed. This didn’t surprise Bucky. A lifetime of internalized homophobia didn’t exactly lend itself to post-coital cuddling with another man.

Bucky rolled onto his back, his scalp tingling where Brock had pulled on his hair, and looked toward the other man.

Brock had his eyes firmly shut, jaw working as if he was biting back angry words. Bucky wondered for a moment if the words were directed at him or Brock himself. Probably him, Bucky figured, he was the one who proposed that they have sex, after all.

Years of Brock staring at him and making scathing remarks about his sexuality had finally led to Bucky propositioning him. Brock had reacted angrily, slammed Bucky back against the wall of his kitchen, growled that he wasn’t some _faggot_ and smashed his lips against Bucky’s in a bruising kiss. The sex had been rough, and Bucky was sure he’d have bruises where Brock had gripped his hips to thrust into him harder.

Brock finally seemed to gain control of himself, sitting up and pulling the sheets up to his waist. He looked around Bucky’s bedroom, then turned his attention to the bedside table, opening the little drawer. It held a bottle of lube, strip of condoms, a container of Tylenol and one of Bucky’s Gerber knives, this one with a short blade, serrated wickedly.

“Why do you have this?” Brock asked, holding the knife up so Bucky could see.

“Just in case,” Bucky answered, sitting up too.

“In case of what?” Brock’s voice held mockery. “One of your groupies liking bloodplay?”

“No,” Bucky said, wincing internally at the memories that came unbidden into his mind. His thighs were littered with faint scars from people who did enjoy that exact kink. “In case someone breaks in, or one of my groupies gets violent.” That’s what he tells himself, at least, trying to forget the feel of running the cold steel up and down his arm, cataloguing all the places to cut to bleed out the fastest.

Brock grimaced. “Fuck, how do you do that, sleep with everyone who offers?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll.”

“That phrase is about fucking girls.”

“I’m not a girl, and you seemed to enjoy fucking me.”

Bucky knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. Brock brandished the knife at him.

“I’m not queer, you hear me?”

“Brock, put the knife down before you hurt yourself.” Bucky raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m not like you,” Brock hissed, as if he was afraid of someone overhearing, “I’m not some little faggot.”

“The word is bisexual,” Bucky said recklessly, rolling his eyes.

It happened almost faster than Bucky could process. Brock slashed at him with the Gerber, then backed violently off the bed, nearly falling on his backside, but just managing to get his feet under him.

Bucky looked down at his abdomen, at the dark red spilling from a gash over his ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Brock breathed, eyes wide. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

 

~

 

“So how did you get so… FUBAR?” Brock asked, leaning back in the bunk opposite Bucky’s. The bus rumbled hypnotically under them, driving through the Midwestern night.

“FUBAR? Really? As if you were in the military,” Bucky mocked.

“I went through basic training.”

“Remind me though, was your discharge honourable or dishonourable?”

“Fuck you, Barnes.” Brock’s lip curled.

Bucky spread his legs, licking his lips. “Anytime, hot stuff.”

Brock’s cheeks tinged red. He shifted a little, glaring at Bucky. “Don’t pull that fairy shit on me.”

Bucky cocked his head in an acquiescent gesture.

“So,” Brock coaxed, “when did you get the way you are?”

Bucky sucked in his bottom lip, pushing his fingers through his short hair. “When my mom died, I suppose.”

“Weren’t you like, a baby?”

“I was four,” Bucky said. “She and Becca died the week after my fourth birthday.”

“Car crash, right?” Brock’s voice was a little softer, his machismo making way for a rare moment of empathy.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured.

“I get that that’s real bad, but…” Brock made a little waving gesture toward Bucky. “That can’t be it.”

Bucky gave a rueful smile. “After she died, it was just me and my dad. And…”

The words were heavy and sour in Bucky’s mouth. There was just enough alcohol and heroin in his system to force the truth out. He avoided Brock’s disgusted gaze as he finished speaking.

“Huh,” Brock cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Bucky whispered.

“So, uhm… you nervous about our first tour?”

The abrupt subject change came as a relief to Bucky, who huffed out a breath. “Yeah. I mean, this is what we’ve been working for, our big time.”

“Yeah,” Brock said quietly. “Yeah, it is.”

 

~

 

The man introduced himself as Brock Rumlow, macho and arrogant in a way that told Bucky he was overcompensating for something. He picked up his guitar, a horrible rip-off of an axe wielded by Kerry King. Then he played, and Wade excitedly nudged Bucky.

“He’s it, Buckaroo,” Wade whispered.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded in agreement. “He’s outplaying everyone else we’ve auditioned.”

“He just needs a better guitar. That thing is an insult to all instruments everywhere,” Scott murmured, his mouth pulled down in disgust.

“At least it’s in tune, unlike the kid’s from yesterday,” Wade replied.

“It’ll do for now.” Bucky was sure of it. Once they got signed, they would all be able to afford better instruments. What was important right now was talent, and Brock had that in spades.

 

Bucky motioned for him to stop playing.

“You’re in,” he said without preamble. “Welcome to Siberia.”

Brock smiled, his eyes lingering on Bucky.

 _Oh,_ Bucky thought.

 

Later that night, a few beers in, he turned to Brock where he was squeezed next to him in the booth the band were occupying.

“So, you’re bi?”

Brock’s face twisted, like Bucky had spit on him. “What the _fuck_?”

Bucky lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “Sorry, just asking.”

“Asking if I’m a faggot?!”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s cool, I’m bisexual. Wade’s… well, he’s Wade, but he’s attracted to guys too, among other things.”

“I’m not.” Brock nearly spat. “So don’t try anything with me. I’m not some fairy.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, “sorry.”

 

But later, as they were going their separate ways outside the grimy old bar, Bucky caught Brock’s eyes on him again, in a way he was all too familiar with. It didn’t matter though; he was smart enough not to push too hard at that particular door. Men like Brock got violent when their masculinity was questioned, and Bucky had had enough of that for one lifetime.  

 


	2. Castle of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky's first date after the end of [Goddamn Electric](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756670/chapters/15441367)

_Take me down to the river bend_

_Take me down to the fighting end_

_Wash the poison from off my skin_

_Show me how to be whole again_

_Fly me up on a silver wing_

_Past the black where the sirens sing_

_Warm me up in a nova's glow_

_And drop me down to the dream below_

_'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass_

_Hardly anything there for you to see_

_For you to see_

_Bring me home in a blinding dream,_

_Through the secrets that I have seen_

_Wash the sorrow from off my skin_

_And show me how to be whole again_

_\- Castle of Glass, Linkin Park_

_~_

 

Steve was early. The restaurant was quiet, one of the few places that had escaped Brooklyn’s gentrification reasonably unscathed. He fiddled with his shirt cuff, one eye on his phone where it was laying on the table. His stomach had twisted itself into knots and he felt faintly nauseous.

 _This was a bad idea,_ he thought to himself. He contemplated just leaving, walking away and not looking back. Except that he had done that once, and he knew the universe had given him a second chance for a reason, a chance he, Steve Rogers, was not going to waste just because of some butterflies in his stomach.

He adjusted in his seat, checking the time on his phone before putting it back face down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his heartrate under control, trying not to feel like he was on the brink of an asthma attack.

“Steve.” The voice was behind Steve and he nearly jumped out of his skin, standing and turning around.

“Bucky, hi.”

“Hi.” Bucky’s smile was small and almost shy.

Steve’s stomach untwisted itself. There was no need to be nervous. This was right, _he_ was in the right place for the first time in a long time.

Bucky held out a hand, and Steve took it, tugging him into an embrace. Bucky smelled good, familiar, and Steve closed his eyes in contentment for a second.

“So, uh, how are you?” Bucky asked once they let go and he walked around the table to take his own seat.

“Fine,” Steve said. “You?”

“Good,” Bucky nodded.

There was a beat of silence and Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, that wasn’t as awkward as it could have been,” Bucky grinned.

“Not at all,” Steve agreed. “It went very smoothly, I think.”

“Onlookers might even think we rehearsed that.”

Steve smiled. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”

“You too, Stevie.” Bucky ducked his head. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Before Steve could answer, a waiter came up to take their drink orders. Bucky ordered a soda, and Steve followed suit.

“So you got the tattoo,” Steve said when they were alone again.

“Yeah,” Bucky looked down at his right arm, covered by the midnight blue fabric of his button-up shirt. “It’s a beautiful piece. Darcy barely changed any of your original drawing.”

Steve nodded. “I’m happy you like it. Didn’t think you’d actually go through with getting it tattooed though.”

“Of course I did.” Bucky widened his eyes. “It was all I had left of you.”

“Buck…” Steve said, his heart clenching.

“It’s okay, Steve.”

Steve sighed. “I had to leave, Buck.”

“I know. I was never angry that you did.”

“Which doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What would?”

Steve swallowed, but was spared his answer by their waiter returning with their drinks. “You gentleman know what you want to eat yet?”

They ordered food, and the waiter left them in silence.

Steve took a sip of his soda, then pushed the glass away.

“It makes me feel better to see you like this. Healthy, sober.”

Bucky nodded. “I don’t know how to apologise for what I did to you. But thank you for not letting me die.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged. There were a few moments of silence, Steve regarding Bucky, who was looking down at his folded hands.

“Maybe,” Steve started, and Bucky met his eyes, “we could save this conversation – this big, emotional, important one – for another time? Enjoy tonight, then maybe keep in touch?”

“I’d like that,” Bucky murmured. “I really did miss you. Not just in the lovesick way, but also in the just hanging out, watching movies way.”

Steve’s heart clenched at Bucky’s casual use of the word ‘love’, but he nodded. “Me too. I’m sure there has to be some obscure nineties teen comedy you haven’t forced me to watch yet.”

“They’re classics, Steve!”

“No, Buck, they’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid!”

Steve laughed, shaking his head, treasuring the sight of Bucky’s grin.

The waiter came back with their food and they ate while sharing what they’ve missed out on in each other’s lives. Outside after dinner, Bucky suggested another day for them to see each other, get takeout and watch a movie. Steve agreed, pulling Bucky into another hug as his Uber drove up to the curb. Bucky hugged back, his grip tight around Steve’s body. They pulled back, and Bucky smiled his beautiful crinkle-eyed smile at Steve, before pressing a swift kiss to Steve’s cheek before ducking into the waiting car.

Steve touched his skin, hot where Bucky’s lips had been, and grinned to himself. This was good. This was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been almost a year since Chester Bennington's death, and each time I listen to a Linkin Park song I still get sad. To everyone reading this, please remember - life is so worth living, and there are people who care, even just strangers on the internet. If any of you beautiful souls reading this needs someone to talk to, or just a shoulder to cry on, I am right here.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are always deeply appreciated, as is constructive criticism.
> 
> I got a request a while ago for a playlist for this fic. I am old and live in a third world country, and therefore do not know how spotify works. I did figure out youtube though. So [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtXO9UYb8f7Wg_O-qZg30U9Oe5z5y12es)


End file.
